Supernatural Orijins
by Ekly Valdur
Summary: John Winchester was a strong but polite, determined but emotionally scarred man who did his best for his family. When Mary was killed in the house fire John began a slow decent into obsession tethered by fate. John becomes the kind of man and father he never would have foreseen himself as. Sometimes there are no goo choices, but you still have to choose and pray you're right.


There's a strange sort of numbness that comes with tragedy that John wouldn't have anticipated just yesterday.

But standing in the street, watching his home burn with his quiet son and crying baby... He wasn't sure if the feeling of nothing, an utter numbness he felt radiating from his core, was a simple matter of shock or if he was processing too much to identify any one feeling.

John was vaguely aware of the sound of sirens in the distance which only became more clear as it neared his street. Someone must have called 911, the fire trucks would be here any minute.

A sudden and firm tugging on his shirt brought John's attention downward to Dean, who looked at him with wide shaken eyes. "Dad, The firemans are going to save Mommy." His little boys voice trembled, but his tone was of a kind of conviction that only a four year old could have that the heroes were going to come and save the day.

John knelt, leaning one one knee to balance himself properly while holding the still screaming Sam, whom he bounced gently and her placed one hand on Deans shoulder. "They're going to try Dean. They'll get the fire out."

It was wrong, but he couldn't quite get out the words to tell Dean that Mary had just died. He didn't need to know his father had watched it happen. The kid didn't need to go asking him how it happened. Why she couldn't get out. Dean didn't need to know anything. Not yet, not now.

The firetrucks pulled up, the three of them blocking most of the street, and a flurry of firefighters ran out, pulled out their hoses, and then John noticed out man breaking away from the crowd and heading toward him.

"Sir. Is this your house sir? Do you know if anyone is still inside the house?" The large framed older man spoke quickly, but solidly.

"My wife. She w- she's upstairs." Hes stopped himself from saying 'was'. He doubted there was anything left to be fire. At it's source... John had never felt heat as intense as that. It wasn't natural.

How in the name of all that was holy, was Mary on the ceiling? Where the hell did that fire come from? He wanted to know how. He needed to know why. Did fate and destiny and karma come together to punish him for not appreciating his life or is the world just a mess of chaos with random causalities? John's breathe suddenly left him and he sat on the ground. There went the shock. He wobbled slightly, his hand moving from Dean's shoulder to the pavement and he leans slowly until he sits flat.

John is vaguely aware of the firefighter calling for a paramedic. Things seems slowed and shakily rapid all at once. This was a sort of panic he hadn't know since he'd woken up in the VA hospital.

Someone tries to pull Sammy from him, and in an instant he's refocused, holding tightly to his son and looking directly at the young man who'd tried to pull him away. "H'es good. I'm good."

"I don't have to take him, but I'd like to check on him all the same. Let's make sure he doesn't need to go to the hospital, a quick check of his heart and lungs?" The paramedic set his bag down and took a knee in front of them, and John acquiesced with a nod, moving Sammy in his arms and unbuttoning his onesie for the stethoscope.

Sammy wailed anew with the touch of the cool metal on his skin and John almost grinned. There couldn't be anything wrong with Sammy's lungs with a cry like that. The paramedic even flinched.

John heard a muttered "wow" come from Dean, still beside him. Watching the the firefighters who ran into their home. John could see Dean just waiting, hands clenched and wait shifting solidly from one foot to the other, for them to run out holding Mary.

The paramedic noticed too and after a nod of approval over Sammy's health, he turned on Dean with a simple calm and a hint of a smile. The man seemed like he'd done this before. Taken kids through the scene of a tragedy. John was grateful for that much since he could clearly be doing better.

"Hi there tough guy. I just need to check on your lungs too, just like I did with your brother here. Is it okay if I do that?" The man held up the end of the stethoscope, waving it slightly in a simple effort to keep Dean's eyes on him.

"No." Dean withdrew and crossed his arms over himself. "You made Sam cry worse."

John cleared his throat softly. "Dean. I think Sam is just a little scared of the Doctor because there's so much going on. He wasn't hurt. Just let the Doctor do his job so we know you're okay and healthy, alright?"

A moment of hesitation on Dean's part and his arms dropped. He looked slightly sullen but allowed himself to get checked out. Five minutes later they were all parametric approved and wrapped blankets from the ambulance.

John rocked Sammy, whose cries had lost a fair degree of volume but persisted all the same.

"It's okay Sammy." John looked to Dean who had moved in closer and reached for his younger brother's hand, touching him lightly as he was always supposed to. "The firemans will get Mommy out soon now. Don't be scared." And then John felt his eyes go watery as his little boy started to hum the oft heard Hey Jude chorus of nah's. Like magic, little Sammy's cries faltered, and with a hiccup and then a smile, the baby watched his big brother who started to swing his head softly from side to side with each lyric.

John smiled proudly at Dean, then tugged him into his lap and held both his boys close. "That was amazing Dean. You knew just what to do to help Sammy."

"I just did what Mommy would." Dean smiled at the praise, almost embarrassed by such a big compliment.

The neighbors had come out now. Tragedy was nothing without spectators he supposed. A snapping of wooden beams and the pops of glass were immediately followed by the roof of their family home caving in. Moments later, the firemen who had gone looking for his wife emerged from the front door, running one after the other. One man was being carried by two others, it looked like a leg was broken.

That was the moment John Winchester felt his son's hope vanish, a soft gasp and stillness coming from the little boy as reality set in.

Mary Winchester, wife and mother, was gone and couldn't be saved.

And now it was just the three of them.


End file.
